


All the Flowers of the Mountain

by Merthallum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwarf Courting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Have a Happy Hobbit Holiday Gift Exchange, I will not explain how they live, Just trust that they do, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merthallum/pseuds/Merthallum
Summary: In which a king tries to win over the heart of a hobbit.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 22
Kudos: 201
Collections: Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bianjula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bianjula/gifts).



“You’re leaving? So soon?” A pain tugged at Thorin’s heart to hear of Bilbo’s premature departure. He knew the hobbit intended to leave eventually. Of course he did. But he was hoping for a bit more time before they were forced to say their farewells.

“Ah, yes, I’m afraid so,” Bilbo replied, his hand on the stone railing, looking out onto the land in front of them. The sky was a light pink as the sun was setting slowly in the west. A cool breeze and the sight of birds flying North signalled the onset of winter in the coming months. Thorin searched Bilbo’s face for a hint of the same pain that he himself was feeling at the hobbit’s words, but if it was there, Bilbo was careful to hide it. “As much as this last year has been a pleasure to share with you and the company, my home is in the Shire, and I must leave sooner or later.”

Thorin contemplated this for a moment as he leaned his forearms onto the railing next to Bilbo. The breeze picked up shortly and whistled past them. “And could you not be persuaded towards the latter?” Thorin finally questioned. 

Bilbo turned to look at him, his face drawn in confusion.

“The winter is settling in fast,” Thorin continued. “It’s true, yes, that the road will be safer on your return journey now that the mountains are no longer riddled with goblins. This will not protect you, however, from the bitter winds of winter.”

“And what do you suggest, then?”

Thorin turned to face the hobbit, taken by a sudden hope. “Stay. For a while. Wait here until the weather is more tolerable, and make your journey in Spring.”

“I’m not sure I can accept that offer,” Bilbo said with a smile. “It’s very kind, but I wouldn’t wish to be a burden here for so long.”

Thorin scoffed at that. Honestly, the audacity of this hobbit. “A burden? Bilbo, you have saved mine and my company’s lives more times than I can count. You will never be a burden in these halls, for as long as any of us have anything to say about it. It would be our honor,” he said, reaching for Bilbo’s nearest hand and holding it gently between both of his own, “if you wished to stay here for a while.” 

Bilbo’s breath hitched slightly before he smiled and looked away. He furrowed his brows at the city that lay before them as he considered Thorin’s offer.

“Well,” Bilbo finally said. “I suppose I can’t say no when you put it like that.” He gave Thorin a cheeky glance. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. I’ll stay for a while, but I  _ am _ leaving as  _ soon _ as the weather becomes more bearable.”

“Wonderful.” Thorin moved his hand to the hobbit’s shoulder, and the relief he felt at Bilbo’s assent was more than he cared to admit at the moment. “Since you’ll be here for a while, I will set up a room for you in one of our finest chambers.”

“Oh no, thats… that’s really not necessary. Just a small, simple room will be fine, really, I don’t need anything fancy.”

* * *

He gave Bilbo one of the finest chambers in Erebor, paying absolutely no mind to the hobbit’s request. The chambers were meant for royalty, in fact. Back when Thorin had lived here as a young dwarf the room had belonged to his brother. It was sort of bittersweet having Bilbo in Frerin’s old quarters. Sometimes off-putting, but in a way, it was nice that the room had life once more, and wasn’t sitting there gathering dust as the rest of the kingdom came back to life.

The room was spacious, as all the royal chambers were, and it was one of the few rooms in all of Erebor that was graced with a window that actually looked outdoors. He suspected the hobbit was very grateful for this particular highlight.

But the main reason Thorin had put Bilbo in these particular quarters was because of their proximity to his own. He had grown… very fond of the hobbit of late. He would now consider Bilbo perhaps one of his dearest friends. He couldn’t explain why, but being around him brought a sense of comfort and ease to the king that he didn’t find in any of his other companions. And so, in the following weeks, he sought Bilbo’s company frequently, treating him as a sort of right-hand man, bringing him along to his meetings, both secret and public, and toting him around Erebor wherever his kingly duties took him. 

Bilbo didn’t seem to mind. He enjoyed Thorin’s company just as well as Thorin did his. They would often walk together at the end of the day back to their separate chambers and wish each other a good evening before retiring to their own private rooms. This had become so routine for them that Bilbo was quite surprised one night when Thorin stopped Bilbo from returning to his room, wishing to have a quick chat before they parted ways.

“I’m sure you have heard rumors by now, but I wanted to be the first to tell you officially. Tomorrow will come the announcement of Margu Iklaladrân. It is a dwarven festivity. A celebration of the coming of winter. My people have long wished to hold a celebration after the reclaiming of Erebor, and we have decided that the Margu Iklaladrân will be the perfect opportunity for that. The celebration will be held in about a month’s time. I wanted to inform you and to… personally invite you.” It’s not that Bilbo would ever not be invited, of course, but there was just something more intimate about giving the invitation in person.

Bilbo practically beamed. “I’ll admit, it’s been quite a long time since I’ve engaged in any festivities! And I would hardly count our time in Laketown, since I was sick as a dog the entire time.” Thorin snorted. Bilbo continued. “Well, you can most certainly count on my being there. Will there be music?”

“Music?” Thorin stopped and looked at Bilbo in amusement. “Yes, I’m certain we will have only the best musicians in our courts for Margu Iklaladrân.”

“Oh, that’s terrible news,” Bilbo quipped. “That means I must brush up my dancing skills.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you dance, Master Baggins.”

“And when was the last time you saw me at a party?”

“Fair enough,” Thorin chuckled. They stood there for a few seconds in silence. “Well, that is all I wished to say. I should be getting to my chambers now, so I will bid you goodnight. Take care, Master Baggins.”

“You as well.”

As they parted, Thorin smiled to himself, now positively enamoured at the prospect of Bilbo Baggins dancing.

* * *

Preparations for Margu Iklaladrân became the primary occupation of each meeting in the following weeks. Plans were made, invitations sent, everything was coming together perfectly, and before long the evening of the event had arrived. 

The Great Hall was lavishly decorated for the celebration with banners and ribbons, splashes of red and blue draped across the ordinarily barren grey walls. Musicians from far and wide had been invited to play at the event, and all were dressed in equally lavish robes. Chefs had come from nearby cities to cook for the large gathering, and the tables were all packed with food, drink, and dwarves. 

Thorin arrived after all the guests were seated, after the food was laid out and the first ales had been drunk. This was the custom for these sorts of events. The king’s table was elevated slightly above the rest of the hall, where all the dwarves of Erebor were arranged. When it was time, Thorin came to his seat at the center. Seated here by his request were all thirteen of his companions, Fili and Kili at his left, and Bilbo and Balin at his right. The entire company sat on the same side, leaving the half of the table which faced out onto the hall entirely open. A cacophony of hot and incredibly tempting foods were laid out in front of him, but the dining had not begun just yet. All were waiting for their cue.

Thorin pounded the table, standing next to his decorated chair, and the entire hall fell silent, all eyes turning to him. “Friends,” he called out with enough force to extend to the farthest reaches of the hall. “We are here tonight to celebrate! As you all know, Margu Iklaladrân is a celebration of winter, but this year it is something more than that. It is a celebration of what _ we have won _ ,” he gestured with open arms to the room at large, signifying the glory of Erebor, and the people erupted into cheers, pounding the tables, stomping their feet, and hollering with half-tipsy voices. “But tonight is also held in remembrance,” Thorin’s tone dropped into something more somber, “of what we have lost.” The cheers died down and the room was held in a solemn silence. “Our home has been reclaimed, but we will never forget what it cost us. Those who died outside these very gates will live on in our memory forever!” Gentle pounding across the hall reflected both the people’s agreement and their grief.

“But, my friends, we are not gathered here tonight to mourn. No. We are here to celebrate. We are here because those lives were not lost in vain. We are here because we have once more shown that the might of dwarves will never falter!” Cheers erupted all around, and the dwarves began their clamoring again, loud enough to make noise, but not so much as to drown out the king’s words. “We are here that their memories live on,” he continued, “and that we might create new ones! Tonight we live! Tonight we rejoice! Tonight…. We celebrate!”

The room collapsed into clamorous approval, dwarves in every corner pounding the tables and stomping their feet in exultant spirits. This quickly transitioned into everyone hurriedly slapping food onto their plates, as the end of Thorin’s speech marked the beginning of the feast. Thorin took a seat in his chair, eager to join the festivities.

“That was an incredible speech, My Lord,” Bilbo chimed playfully at his right. “I didn’t realize you were so crafty with words.”

Thorin looked at him and chuckled. “I was forced to study public speaking as a child. Basic speech-crafting is a must for future kings.” 

Bilbo let out a loud laugh at this. “Speeches never were my forte. I always manage to insult at least half the crowd, despite my best efforts.”

“Why do I have a hard time believing that?”   
  
“What, that I could insult an entire crowd?”

“No. That it would be despite your best efforts.”

Bilbo gave him an icy look which transformed briefly into a smile, revealing that he took no genuine offense from Thorin’s remark. 

It was then that Thorin noticed for the first time the hobbit’s outfit. He was not dressed in his usual clothes, but something much more extravagant. In structure it was typical hobbit-dress: a form-fitted jacket along with a vest over a button-up shirt, with capris on the bottom. But the style was clearly of dwarvish make. This did not surprise Thorin, given that there weren’t exactly any hobbit-tailors in this part of the world. What did take him aback was how striking Bilbo looked in this attire. The vest was dark brown and lined with a dark teal blue, and the cuffs of his jacket were woven with a distinctly Dwarven pattern. After looking for a short while he even noticed some small gems sewn around the bottom of the jacket and in the lapel of the vest as well. He looked… sharp. His hair, which had grown out significantly over the course of their journey, was braided back on the sides, complementing his face quite well, and the dark colors of his jacket made his eyes shine out brighter. He’d never seen the hobbit look so dashing. 

“I hope you’re not staring out of jealousy because I do intend to keep this jacket.” 

Thorin realized in mild horror that he had been staring at Bilbo’s clothes for a bit too long. “I apologize,” Thorin huffed. “I couldn’t help but notice they were of Dwarven make. May I ask who fashioned them?”

“Dori, actually. He mentioned he used to be an expert seamster, so I commissioned this off of him. Not that he needed the money of course, but he seemed thrilled to be given the task.”

“Well, I’ll have to personally commend Dori on his work. It is very becoming on you.”

Bilbo looked quickly at his plate with what Thorin could have sworn was a faint blush, and in the hall a soft melody began to play. It was the kind of uninteresting stand-in song that normally played during the dining part of the evening. Taking this cue, Thorin slapped Bilbo on the shoulder with a chuckle in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, then turned to the food in front of him and took a hefty serving of meat, potatoes, bread, and gravy onto his plate, revelling in the muffled chatter that filled the chamber. 

And thus the night began, and laughs were shared, and drinks drunk. The company had not shared such a jovial evening since they had all turned up on the steps of Bag End. It now seemed so long ago. It was hard to believe how much had happened since then. They had all shared so much together: fought together, won together, wept together. And for all this they came out stronger. Closer. Thorin thought then there was no company he would rather be in than this. His kin, who never gave up hope, who pledged their loyalty to him when they had little reason to do so. And Bilbo. Thorin stole a glance at the cheerful hobbit, laughing at some story Gloin was telling about his son. The king’s face softened as he gazed at the hobbit. To none of the company had Thorin grown more fond than Bilbo. 

He was a mystery that Thorin could not solve. He came with them on their quest with no promise of reward, without any guarantee of success, or even of life, to aid a people he did not know. And when he finally got his reward, after risking his life time and again for the company, he gave it away like it was nothing. His gold and glory, surrendered on the off chance that there might be peace. He had done what none of the dwarves were strong enough to do. Bilbo didn’t care for wealth. He cared for people. For a people he had no reason to protect or love, but he had done both all the same. He was the bravest person Thorin had ever met. Sometimes the most reckless, sometimes the most clever, and always the most selfless. He would give up the riches of the world if only to keep the peace and protect those he held dear. 

And for his part Thorin could only marvel at having managed to be among those few.

Perhaps his many drinks had gone to his head, but he looked at the hobbit now with wonder and admiration, as the dim lighting and constant buzzing of chatter made his head swim lightly. He wondered to himself if he could ever let Bilbo leave this place. It would feel so empty here without him. His heart relied on Bilbo more than he was ready to admit. 

Impulsively, he brought his hand to Bilbo’s shoulder and smiled something affectionate, and perhaps a bit inebriated. When Bilbo turned to look at him in some mixture of confusion and amusement, Thorin realized he probably ought to have an excuse for this sudden gesture.

“Bilbo!” he blurted, and closed his eyes briefly, trying to come up with something to say. The music shifted into something more light-hearted and already he could hear the sounds of dwarves shifting out of their seats to begin the post-feast activities. Of course! Thorin opened his eyes and looked into Bilbo’s with new resolution. “I do remember you promising to dance sometime this evening. I hope your intentions have not changed?”

Bilbo chuckled. “Oh, I should hope not. It’s been far too long since I have had the opportunity to dance properly… Though I’m afraid I haven’t recognized a single song that has played all evening. Not at all like the songs we would play back in the Shire. And I don’t know a thing about traditional dwarvish dance, I’m afraid.”

Thorin smiled warmly. “Well, I don’t see how either point ought to hinder you too much this evening. In fact,” Thorin rose up suddenly from his seat and winked at Bilbo. “I’ll be right back.”

He wove his way through a sea of bodies—an easy task, when those who noticed him quickly stepped aside, making an easy path—and walked to where the musicians were playing. He whispered a short request, then made his way back to the table. He noticed the eyes of many nearby dwarves follow him curiously, and he smiled to himself. Being king occasionally had its perks.

As he sat back down, he gave Bilbo a coy look and a new song began to play. Thorin of course did not recognize it, for he had requested a traditional Shire tune (a simple request since the musicians were well acquainted with music from all over Middle Earth), and Bilbo’s face immediately perked up. He clearly knew the song well.

“Oh no,” he smirked with a glint in his eye. “Well, I don’t suppose I can put this off any longer.” Bilbo stood up, looking at Thorin with a transparent facade of exasperation. “Are you not going to join me?”

“Nonsense! I don’t know a thing about traditional hobbit dance,” he responded. “And besides, I’ve been looking forward to watching you dance for weeks.”

Bilbo’s face flushed as he laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Mister Baggins,” Kili interposed from the side. “We’ll join you. Nobody deserves to dance alone, after all.” He and Fili shot Thorin a glare, and ran along with Bilbo to the large open space in the center of the hall, where many dwarves had already gathered to dance.

Suddenly Bilbo was in his element. Thorin watched as the hobbit was immediately taken by the upbeat music and let his body carry him through the jubilant song. He seemed unbelievably happy, bouncing along to the rhythm of the music in what Thorin could only imagine was a common hobbit-dance. He was shortly joined by others of the company, who attempted to imitate his movements, though somewhat clumsily. Dwarves weren’t quite as limber as hobbits after all. Nevertheless Bilbo helped them along and showed them some of the more common movements and they were all clearly enjoying themselves.

“Come on, then!” a voice called to Thorin from nearby. It was Bofur. “Aren’t you going to join?” He came up to the king, hopefully expectant.

Thorin contemplated. He enjoyed watching, but there was a part of him that longed to learn this strange dance that was so dear to Bilbo. Though he thought he would probably look like a fool if he tried. “I suppose you won’t be taking no for an answer,” Thorin grumbled lightheartedly.

Bofur beamed in his annoyingly optimistic smile. “Absolutely not. Come on.” He offered Thorin a hand, and he took it, standing up resentfully, but willingly. Thorin looked out into the room, eyes following Bilbo wherever he went. He wondered if Bilbo would laugh at his poor attempts to mimic his style of dancing.

“C’mon sir. It’ll be fun!” Bofur grinned. He all but pushed Thorin into the mass of bodies, then subsequently hurled himself into the mess as well, immediately trying to take up the movements of the hobbit.

Suddenly Thorin was surrounded by merry dancing and laughter, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

“Come, loosen up a bit!” he heard from a passing dwarf. It was Bombur. “You look stiff,” he said as he twirled by, hand in hand with a dwarf-maiden. 

“You make it look easy,” Thorin chuckled, watching them fly by with ease and vigor. Bombur only laughed in response and disappeared behind more bodies.

“Are you lost?” came another voice. This one he immediately recognized as Bilbo’s. When he turned to meet him, the hobbit was still dancing carelessly.

“Not lost, no, but I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest clue what I’m supposed to do with myself. I’m not familiar with such a… structureless dance form.”

“Well, under the assumption that that was more of an observation than an insult, I’d be happy to show you the ropes,” Bilbo responded, and without any warning grabbed the king’s hands and began swinging him around with a skilled mixture of vitality and control.

Thorin only managed a shocked “oh” as he was swept abruptly into the dance. Bilbo laughed, holding onto the king’s hands and leading him through the motions, and indeed, under the hobbit’s supervision, the dance seemed to come naturally. It was a peculiar sort of dance: it didn’t seem to have any rules, and Thorin believed with increasing surety that some of the movements Bilbo was making up on the fly. But the disorganization of it all only seemed to fuel the energy, and Thorin found himself surprisingly elated as he and Bilbo tossed each other about in synchronized movements. He even made a clumsy attempt at spinning the hobbit around once, as Bilbo had repeatedly done with him, and hoped he didn’t make too much a fool of himself.

After several minutes of this, the music came to a stop and transitioned into a more well-known dwarven song. Immediately cheers came from around the room, and many dwarves who had been sitting through the last song now joined their comrades in the center of the hall. It was a drum-heavy song, and a low chant began to echo throughout the chamber. Dwarven dance songs were more structured than the hobbit’s dance. Each dwarven song came with an accompanying set of movements and a set dance style. Some were rather rigid while others left room for more improvisation.

This particular song conducted a solo dance that all dwarves knew well. Bilbo, on the other hand, was now the one at a loss.

“I’m afraid I don’t know this one as well as everyone else seems to,” he all but yelled at Thorin over the growing chants. “In fact I don’t know it at all. Would you show me? I would love to learn.”

And Thorin was happy to guide him through the dance, thrilled at the opportunity to be with Bilbo and laugh at Bilbo and dance with Bilbo. It wasn’t a complicated dance, and it was one whose motions cycled back around and repeated many times through the course of the song, so he had plenty of time to walk him through the movements. It was simple, but required both balance and a good deal of muscle control. In fact the dance was specifically meant to showcase the strong and durable build of the dwarves, and came with many downward movements that seemed to replicate the falling of an axe, or a hammer.

The footwork was something most dwarves struggled with most, but Bilbo’s large feet helped him maintain perfect balance in this particular facet. He had a harder time, however when it came to the downward movements, as this required a great deal of core strength to keep from falling over, a strength that Bilbo was not graced with. Towards the end of the song, just as he seemed to be getting the hang of the dance, he lost his footing on one of these tricky movements, and would have toppled to the ground if Thorin had not reacted immediately and caught the hobbit just in time.

“Oh, clumsy me, I’m terribly sorry,” Bilbo mumbled, helping himself up and brushing off his clothes.

Thorin snickered. “Frankly I’m surprised you lasted that long without falling.” Bilbo proceeded to huff in indignation, but Thorin cut him off before he could say anything in retaliation. “I do hope you still have enough in you to keep up through this next dance.”

“Next dance? What’s the next dance?”

The music faded and a new song started up. This one was much more subdued, and carried a soft but powerful melody. The notes began slow, steady, and almost mournful as the ancient hymn echoed through the hall. In what was either a very brave, thoughtless, or inebriated act, Thorin stepped forward, grabbed Bilbo’s hands, leaned in close and whispered, “This, Master Baggins, is a couple’s dance.”

“Oh?” Bilbo seemed quite flustered, but whether it was because of the music or their sudden proximity Thorin could not tell. “You don’t want a new dancing partner?” Bilbo seemed somewhat embarrassed. “We have been together for nearly two songs, after all, and I wouldn’t wish to hog your attention all night.”

“The night has only just begun, Master Baggins. And besides… Our hands are already joined. It is vital now that we not separate until the song is over.” Thorin began to lead Bilbo through the dance, slowly giving him guidance.

“Oh?” Bilbo questioned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Thorin smiled as he held the hobbit’s hand in his. They stood at arms length with their hands intertwined, sometimes stepping forward and sometimes stepping to the side. “The song in this dance tells an ancient story of two dwarf lovers, Nín and Baldor. They had promised to never leave each other’s side, and they kept this promise until one day their daughter ran away. They looked everywhere for her, but couldn’t cover enough ground, so they separated. A great storm came and carried them far away from one another, and they never found each other or their daughter again.” Bilbo looked pensive, but said nothing as Thorin pulled him close, centered to his right, and they turned in a circle holding this position. “This dance is an homage to the story, and it is peculiar from other traditional dances in that the challenge is for the partners never to let go of one another until the song is over. It is a reminder of the loyalty and trust among our kin, and for some, as the ones in the story, it also symbolizes the bond between a dwarf and their One.”

“Their One?” Bilbo questioned as Thorin brought him around to his side so that they were now facing the same direction, hands still intertwined as they moved forwards and backwards. “What is that, like a soulmate?”

“Mahal, do you really not know?” Thorin gawked. “Yes. Almost all dwarves are promised the gift of their One, or… soulmate, as you put it.”

“That seems..” he paused. “I thought that male dwarves vastly outnumbered the female dwarves?”

Thorin raised his eyebrows as he gently but firmly led them again in a circle. “They do.”

“Oh.” Bilbo didn’t say anything else, but Thorin smiled at the hobbit’s moderate confusion.

“I understand it is custom in most places in Middle Earth for only men and women to pair, but it is not so among dwarves. It is true that dwarrow men greatly outnumber the dwarrowdams… which is why it is quite common for a dwarrow man’s One to be another man.”

“I see,” Bilbo replied, and again more quietly, “I see.” They turned now in and out, tying their bodies together and gracefully untangling them in swift and smooth motions. “Yes, you’re right,” Bilbo continued, “it’s quite outside of custom for two hobbits of the same gender to um… mingle with one another, though it’s not unheard of. Certainly rarely spoken of, however, as there are some who would look down on it.”

Thorin gazed at Bilbo skeptically, trying to gauge his opinion. “And you?” he asked finally.

Bilbo met his gaze as they came face to face, now holding their hands in a criss cross and stomping to a rhythm. “Me?” Bilbo seemed a bit flustered. “Me, no I… I don’t believe I could ever find fault in such a thing. I don’t see how something as harmless as love has any business being put under scrutiny.”

Thorin didn’t fully understand why, but he heaved a sigh of relief when Bilbo said this. His people had faced apprehension from many cultures of Middle Earth for their practices, apprehension that most regularly came from westerners. Knowing that he did not have to worry about such scrutiny coming from the eyes of one that he would consider his closest friend comforted him, and he looked at the hobbit with new affection. Of course he had regarded the hobbit in great fondness for a long while now, but this particular feeling was now mingled with something new. Or maybe not new, per se, so much as something hidden coming into the light. They continued to dance for a while and the conversation lulled until Bilbo posed an unexpected question.

“Did you ever find yours? Your One?”

The question took Thorin by surprise and he stared at Bilbo for a moment in some astonishment.

“It’s just that I’ve never heard you talk of anybody…” Bilbo trailed off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just wondering.”

“No, not rude,” Thorin reassured him. “I don’t mind, the question just… took me by surprise.” The king turned quiet then, and folded his eyebrows in on one another, and pondered his response. He resolved on what he thought to be the most truthful answer. “I’m not sure.”

“Not sure?”

Thorin contemplated explaining himself, but instead, just smiled at the hobbit and led him through a new series of motions, and they stumbled around a bit, trying to maintain their pace and stay synchronized. “Be careful,” he warned, “we are coming up on a tricky move very soon. I will need you to put your faith in me and trust that I will not let you fall.”

Bilbo looked slightly alarmed by this, but nodded his head and reassured the king of his trust. In a swift motion, and one which was duplicated by each partnered couple around them, he led Bilbo with one hand behind him, so that they were back to back, and locked their elbows. He then bent forward, hoisting Bilbo onto his back, (tried not to chuckle as he heard the hobbits' surprised noise). Then in an impressive display of strength, he flipped the hobbit forward so that he landed softly on his feet in front of him.

Bilbo looked very discombobulated after this move. “That was… unexpected, but I must say, very impressive.”

“Well you did your part well I think.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Shall I expect more manhandling or was that the bulk of it?” he teased as they brought their left hands to the other’s right shoulder, remaining at an arm’s length and continuing to move with the rhythm.

Thorin smiled. “The dance will be coming to a close soon, and you will be rid of me before long, I promise.” And they both laughed as Thorin led them through the last stretch of dance.

The music slowed, and now came the simplest, yet most delicate and intimate part of the dance. Thorin reached for Bilbo’s neck, and motioned for Bilbo to do the same as he brought their foreheads together. The movement now ceased altogether and they lingered here like this as the last notes of music sounded. Thorin closed his eyes and cherished this moment. With Bilbo’s forehead against his own he felt… safe. Cherished. He felt a warmth bubbling in him which seemed almost uncontrollable. And that fondness… that feeling of something else… hidden coming to light. He began to understand it now, warily. He didn’t understand how, but he knew it to be true. It felt almost blinding in that moment, as the music died down, and he held onto the hobbit as if he couldn’t let go. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to stay here, like this, until the crowd faded and the music died and the moon went to sleep. He breathed deeply and relished the moment before it ended with someone’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Your highness.” Balin’s voice came from behind him, and Thorin could almost laugh at the absurdity as he drew his head away from Bilbo’s to meet his friend’s eyes. “I don’t wish to intrude,” continued Balin, “but I was hoping to steal you away for at least one dance if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, my friend.” Thorin responded and turned to Bilbo. “It has been a pleasure, Master Baggins. Please, enjoy the evening, take merriment, and dance to your heart’s content.”

“I should say the same to you, your highness,” Bilbo quipped, and whatever the hobbit was feeling he hid with a pleasant smile. “I’ll see you around.”

In fact Thorin didn’t see Bilbo around until the end of the night, when the celebrations had died down and those who had not yet retired all came together for the final gathering of the night. It was customary at the close of Margu Iklaladrân to sing the Ballad of Belegost, and this was a centuries-old custom. 

A clustered circle formed in the middle of the room, and a path was made for him that led to the center of it. He came forward and stood so as to close the gap, and noticed that by his side stood Bilbo, and he felt warmed to have the hobbit beside him once again. 

A dead silence came over the room. At last Thorin began the low notes of the ballad, deep and guttural, and they traveled far in the dimly lit room. The first verse ended, and the rest of the dwarves joined in at the second. They sang low and long, and with the song came both reverence and peace. It was a sort of solemn ending to the evening.

Thorin glanced at Bilbo, who stood to his left. He was not singing, of course. He did not know the tune. But he seemed to be completely ensnared. Written on his face was a sort of reticent awe. Thorin stared at Bilbo as the room carried the song, and he felt himself moved by an unknown force. A silent passion as he scoured the hobbits eyes, so gentle and mystified, and the king knew beyond a doubt that his heart was no longer his own. When Bilbo turned to look at him, Thorin couldn’t bring himself to look away. He felt as though the world had been taken from him and replaced with only an adoration of the man at his side. He would have him here forever. He would have him at his side to the end of his days. And this feeling, brought on so suddenly, became so intense he thought he might shatter if he contained it for too long. 

Suddenly Thorin felt terror. Bilbo would leave in two month’s time. Was this how they were doomed to end? With a congenial farewell? Were they to part ways and never look upon eachother’s face again? Thorin almost felt sick at the idea, and he knew he must try to find a solution, whatever that might look like. He couldn’t let Bilbo leave without first having his say.

* * *

“Balin. I wish to speak with you in private.”

“Of course, My Lord.”

Thorin pulled Balin into a room, and began to pace anxiously. How was he supposed to address this? Despite himself, he found that he was incapable of asking the question that had been nagging at him for days, since the winter celebrations.

“My Lord?”

Thorin looked at his friend in distress. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Well ask away then. I assure you if it is within my power to answer, I will.”

Thorin paused for a long time, but finally forced himself to speak. “I was wondering… you have studied far more of our history than I. You have read all the ancient stories and histories. Have you ever… have you ever heard of a dwarf’s One being… of another race?”

Balin raised his eyebrows. “Let me think.” He took a seat at an open bench in the room and scratched at his beard. “There was Fimrur, yes, who despite all odds fell in love with an elf. And Brís, yes, who ran away with a woman from Gondor. And Gamlin, back in the Third Age, whose lover was a halfling, I believe. It’s a very rare occurrence, that’s for sure, but certainly not impossible.” He paused and looked at Thorin with interest, which suddenly ripened into realization. “Why do you ask?” He gazed at Thorin discerningly.

Thorin didn’t know how to respond. The truth had hit him like a train, and here he was, broken by his own inner turmoil. He could barely bring his eyes to meet Balin’s, but when he did he found he didn’t have any words. Instead he felt his thoughts bleeding red through his cheeks.

Balin simply smiled at him and nodded in understanding.

“I’m assuming you haven’t spoken to him about this?”

Thorin sighed. There was no point in denying his affections. Balin had guessed easily and correctly. Thorin couldn’t help but feel some respite in his secret being known. His silence for the past several days had been a chore that chipped slowly away at his spirit.

“Spoken to—?” Thorin found himself unable to say his name. “Mahal no.” He paused and tried not to stare at the floor, constantly forcing his eyes back to Balin’s. “Balin, you must understand I have only just begun to… understand my feelings myself.” 

Balin nodded. “Of course, my Lord.” He let out a deep sigh then and continued. “For what it’s worth, I think Bilbo is a fine lad. But I would advise you to be careful. He’s a kind soul, but hard to pin down. And he is homesick.”

Thorin only grunted.

“He’s been with us a long time now, Thorin. You must not begrudge him for missing his home. After all, we would not have ours if not for him.”

Thorin grumbled, but he knew Balin was right. Bilbo was hard to read. He was making the most of his stay here, enjoying the company, giving help where it was needed. But Thorin could tell he was getting restless. The stone walls of Erebor weren’t built with hobbits in mind. He longed for his home, and Thorin didn’t know how to quell that longing.

“How do I make him stay?” Thorin asked, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“That, my lad, you will have to figure out for yourself.”

  
  


It wasn’t a full plan. Might not even have been a good plan. But it was a plan. Or at least it was… something.

* * *

Sweat ran down Thorin’s face as he turned over the ring in his hands, etching the last marks around its middle. It dimly reflected the lights of the warm room. The ring was made with the purest silver Erebor had to offer, and around its edges Thorin had embedded small diamonds, so clear they practically shone with their own light. It was thicker on its front than its back, so as to make room for the short engraving written in runes, and a delicate angular pattern of interlacing lines surrounded these.

It was finished now, and Thorin held it proudly in his hands. The hour was late, and he was tired from a long day of arguing with Dain over various political matters, but his final undertaking of the night was complete. He was unsure how Bilbo would receive it. Bilbo didn’t know enough about dwarven customs to understand the significance of gift-giving, Thorin assumed. Yet he hoped the significance of the ring would be written in its fine details and ingrained in the care he had taken to craft it.

He walked back to his room with the ring in his pocket. He didn’t know when or how he intended to give it to Bilbo. He would figure that out tomorrow. His footsteps echoed in the halls as he walked the empty and quiet corridors. It was almost a haunting sensation to be out in the depths of Erebor at such a late hour.

When he turned the corner that led to the hall where his quarters lay, he noticed a light coming from Bilbo’s room, which lay between him and his own.  _ Is he still awake at this hour?  _ He considered knocking on his door, wondering if this might be the opportune time to present Bilbo with his gift. He lingered for a moment.  _ Is there any reason not to? _ He couldn’t find one, and besides, speaking with Bilbo would cheer him up a bit after his long day.

He gave into his inclination and walked up to Bilbo’s room and set a gentle knock on his door.

Shuffling came from within, and in seconds Bilbo opened the door.

“Thorin!” he exclaimed, pleasantly surprised, “I wasn’t expecting you.” He quickly tied his robe around his waist, and his cheeks reddened as he looked the dwarf up and down, and averted his glance briefly.

It was then that Thorin realized how he must look. He was still covered in grime and sweat, and hadn’t bothered to bathe before visiting Bilbo.

“I must apologize for my appearance, I have just come from the forges.”

Bilbo looked at Thorin amused, but quickly waved his hand in dismissal as he gestured for Thorin to come inside. “May I ask what you were doing in the forges? I don’t recall you spending much time there of late.” He led Thorin to two chairs which sat beside a small hearth.

“You are correct.” Thorin said, taking a seat, and Bilbo sat himself in the chair adjacent to him. “This was a... Special occasion. I was making this.” He pulled out the ring from his pocket and handed it to Bilbo.

“You made this?” he asked, taking the ring and turning it over in his hands.

“Do you like it?”   
  


Bilbo huffed. “It’s beautiful.” He held it then looked up at Thorin earnestly. “Truly, I didn’t know you had such skills.”

Thorin smiled. “I confess, I am not as skilled in working in the finer details, and I was forced to ask for some coaching, but I made it myself, I assure you.” He felt pride, and a small degree of tension, hoping for a sign from Bilbo that he felt some sense of value in the small object.

“It’s incredible,” Bilbo smiled, and ran his fingers over the runes. “What does it say?” 

“Bâhu Khazâd. Dwarf-friend.”

Bilbo looked somewhat confused, then dawning realization swept over his face. “This is a gift? For me?”

Thorin almost laughed, but stopped himself instead with a smile. “I apologize for not making myself clear. Yes. It is indeed a gift.” 

Bilbo gazed at him with sincere fondness, then suddenly broke into laughter. When Thorin furrowed his brows at him in confusion, Bilbo quickly explained himself. “I’m sorry I just…” he chuckled. “I was looking at this small ring wondering how you were ever going to fit it on your massive fingers…”

Thorin looked at him blankly for a few seconds, then they both broke into laughter. After they gathered themselves, they looked at each other, both smiling as the light from the hearth flickered on Bilbo’s face. They stayed like this, just looking at one another and smiling, for what could have been either seconds or minutes, Thorin couldn’t tell. All he felt was warmth and tenderness, as he always did when he looked at Bilbo. 

Bilbo broke the moment with a curt cough. “Well,” he said, looking away, “I should probably be getting to bed.”

“Yes,” Thorin added. “I should be heading out, myself. I’m still quite filthy and could use a bath before I go to sleep. Rest well, Master Baggins.” He got up and walked towards the door, Bilbo following him out, and when he reached it he turned to say something, but found he had quite forgotten what he intended to say.

Bilbo swooped in with his own remark to rescue them from the silence. “Thank you, Thorin. For the ring. And well, for everything.”

“Think nothing of it, Master Baggins.” That was the wrong thing to say.  _ Think everything of it, Master Baggins _ . That would have been better. Instead Thorin smiled and walked away, and as he did he wondered if he had done the right thing. Bilbo seemed touched by the ring, but it didn’t appear to make a lasting impression. It hadn’t moved him the way Thorin had hoped. Perhaps it wasn’t clear enough, wasn’t intricate enough. He needed something more lavish… something unambiguous. That was it.

* * *

Over the course of the next few months, Thorin continued to craft gifts for Bilbo, each becoming more extravagant and detailed than the last. Among these were the following: the first was a beautiful knife, made of iron but inlaid with golden patterns. The hilt of it was gold-plated, decorated with rubies and a fine angular pattern. The second was a belt. Made to fit Bilbo’s small stature, it was nothing short of a kingly gift. It’s silver base contained an intricate dwarvish mold and was bedecked with sapphires and emeralds. 

The third gift was one that stole the most of Thorin’s time. It was a necklace. Around the front of the necklace were fourteen oval-shaped glass bulbs, each of a different color, and inside each was a unique image. The fourteen bulbs symbolized the fourteen members of the company, and the images inside each were simple motifs that depicted different scenes from their journey. The first was a hobbit door, and the color of the glass bulb in which it was ingrained was light green. The second depicted the silhouette of three trolls, and was orange. The third was a moon rune, marking their stay in Rivendell, and was light blue. The fourth, a grey mountain, the fifth, a yellow ring. The sixth was a wolf, dark green, the seventh an eagle, aqua blue, the eighth a bear, dark brown, the ninth a spider, royal blue, the tenth a barrel, a rich purple. The eleventh was a fish, bright pink, for their stay in Laketown. The twelfth a key, deep turquoise, the thirteenth a dragon encased in a vibrant red, and the last was a sword, translucent black, representing the battle. Each glass bulb was held in place by a string of chain links which were laced around the necklace in multiple layers that all lay flat against the wearer.

This gift Thorin took the most pride in, for its skilled attention to detail and craftsmanship, as well as the deep meaning imbued in it. When he had given it to Bilbo, Bilbo had accepted it with no small degree of stunned awe and sincere admiration. He had thanked Thorin endlessly and allowed Thorin to adorn him with it. Bilbo didn’t wear it every day (it was too bulky for casual wear), but he took several opportunities to show it off when he could, and Thorin smiled to himself in satisfaction when he saw Bilbo wearing it.

But despite all this, Thorin couldn’t seem to make a dent in Bilbo’s resolve. The hobbit still intended to leave for the Shire on the first day of Spring, despite all Thorin’s efforts. It was clear now Bilbo was entirely ignorant of dwarf customs, or he might have caught on to Thorin’s true intentions with all the gifts. But despite his appreciation of them, Bilbo saw them as nothing more than trinkets given in good faith.

In his desperation, Thorin turned once again to Balin.

“I do not know what path to take. I have given him the finest gifts I could offer. I labored endless nights for them. But he cannot see. For all this he doesn’t understand their meaning or the intentions behind them.” 

Thorin paced in his quarters, where he had requested Balin’s presence. “What can I do?”

“Well, for starters, you  _ could _ try telling the man how you feel.”

Thorin tried not to scoff at Balin. He knew he was right. By all accounts that was indeed what he  _ ought  _ to do. Of course it was. But there was something preventing him from doing this.

“I do not have the words,” murmured Thorin.

Balin sighed. “I have served you for many years, Thorin. It is because of this that I know you are not a man of words but of action.” Balin moved to lean his forearm against the wall beside which the fire was burning in the hearth. “I cannot give you the words you seek. Nor can I tell you what actions to take. But I will tell you what I do know. Bilbo is… well he’s a hobbit. He’s never cared for gold and riches. Out of all of the company members, he certainly cared the least for his reward. He tells me he only plans on taking home one small chest with him. He is not a man that cares deeply for wealth. No. What he loves most is home. His books, his kitchen, his garden. I do not know how much rings and weapons and jewelry will speak to him, no matter their intentions.”

Thorin groaned. Balin was right again, of course. It wasn’t that any of Balin’s words came as news to Thorin, but he had a way of pointing out the obvious flaws in Thorin’s plans. Of course his gifts wouldn’t speak to Bilbo. And they never would, no matter how many weapons he fashioned or how many rings he engraved. Bilbo’s heart didn’t belong to trinkets. It belonged to flowers that lined the steps to his home, to merriment and dancing freely with good company, and to homemade honey cakes whose scent filled the air on autumn mornings.

Thorin closed his eyes. He felt a tug of despair as he realized he couldn’t offer that to Bilbo with all the gold in the world. He slowed and moved to sit in his chair. He looked up at Balin, who only offered him a sympathizing half-smile.

“Is it not enough to give all my love in the only way I know?”

Balin sat next to him, and put one of his hands over Thorin’s, which rested on the arm of his chair. “It’s never an easy territory, lad. All the books in the world couldn’t tell you what is the right thing to do. And sometimes you can do all the right things and still fail. I’m afraid even I don’t have all the answers, old as I am.” Balin patted Thorin’s hand, then folded his own over his stomach. “I have said my piece. I hope in time you will come to an understanding.”

Thorin nodded sedately. He stared deep into the fire in front of him, searching for answers. The flames danced, sometimes in pairs of two, sometimes in pairs of three or four. The orange glow moved him, and he searched it for answers. He searched for whatever it was he must be missing. He felt if only he looked at the flames long enough it would come to him. And as he watched the light flicker in lively animation, a thought dawned on him.

It felt like the plainest thing in the world. It wouldn’t be easy, nor was it a guaranteed solution, but something told him it was what he needed to do. But it would take time. Lots of time. Time he did not have.

He turned to Balin. “I thank you for your counsel tonight. I wouldn’t keep you for much longer. You should get some sleep, as should I.”

Balin smiled and nodded. “Very well. I hope you find what it is you are looking for.” He rose from his seat and walked slowly towards the door. He stopped halfway there. “I meant to ask, did you ever hear back from your sister about when she would be arriving? I get the sense Fili and Kili are getting very anxious to see her.”

“Yes, actually. I got a letter from her this very morning. She expects to be here in about a month and a half. The weather is beginning to clear up. Dís and her company left a little over a week ago. She tells me she is just as anxious to see her sons as they are to see her.”

Balin grinned. “That’s wonderful. I shall love to see her again myself. Send her my love whenever you write back, will you?”

“Of course.” Thorin smiled and walked Balin out of his room. When he had left, Thorin changed and settled into his bed. He was unsure how he would manage to pull off his plan, but plans could wait. He needed sleep and a fresh start.

When he dreamed, he dreamed of the stars falling from the sky only to land in a large field, where they looked like glowing flowers. But the wind swept them all away, leaving only stardust.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will build my love a bower  
> Near yon pure chrystal founain;  
> And on it I will pile  
> All the flowers of the mountain.

Bilbo woke with the sun. It was the first time in months he had woken up without immediately wondering if his toes would freeze the second he stepped out of bed. He arched his back in a big stretch and relished the almost-warmth of the room. 

He rose from his bed and pitter pattered over to the chair that was seated by the hearth and window. He contemplated making a fire, since this had become his morning routine, but he didn’t really need it today. The room was cool but not cold, and besides he didn’t particularly feel the need for tea this morning. Instead he relaxed in his chair under a blanket and picked up the book that was sitting on the table beside him.

It was a book he had borrowed from Erebor’s vast library. He had asked Balin for recommendations, since he had no idea where he should start, and Balin had been very helpful. This was the fourth book Bilbo had picked up during his stay. He had little else to do in the mornings than read, so read he did. Most books that spoke of dwarven history or that told dwarven tales were written in Khuzdul, so Bilbo had no way of reading those unless he planned on learning the language. But he knew dwarves were protective of their language and didn’t often share it with outsiders. So instead Bilbo found himself reading the histories and classics that were written in Common Speech. 

This particular book he had actually read before, a very long time ago: The Tales of Gildabar. It was full of silly children’s stories, but Bilbo didn’t mind. He enjoyed it all the same. He had nowhere to be for several hours (Thorin had asked him to attend a meeting later in the afternoon, but his schedule was entirely free until then). So he sat and read to his heart’s content, paying no mind to the outside world as he found himself captured in the adventures of Gildabar. It was when Gildabar had come to an enchanted river in The Old Forest which reeked of an ancient curse that Bilbo’s stomach growled, and he wondered at the time. He must have been reading for hours.

Almost on cue, a knock came at his door. Bilbo hobbled over and opened it, unsurprised to find Thorin on the other side. 

He turned to Bilbo and smiled kindly. 

“Thorin, good morning.” Bilbo noticed that the king was dressed very regal and felt foolishly self-conscious of his own threadbare robe.

“It’s well past noon,” said the king, “but thank you.”

Well past noon. Oh fiddlesticks. “My, my, I’ve quite forgotten about the meeting! Dear me, please allow me to get dressed, I’ll be ready shortly!” He made as if to run to his wardrobe before Thorin stopped him with a hand and a smile.

“Relax, hobbit. The meeting isn’t for another hour and a half. I have actually come to ask if you would accompany me to lunch.”

Bilbo’s panic quickly subsided. “Oh. Lunch. Yes, yes of course.”

Thorin’s hand slid down his arm as he took a step back. “I suppose you still intend to get dressed?”

Bilbo huffed and gave Thorin a side-eye. “Yes, give me just a moment. I’ll be out in a jiffy.” He closed the door and felt an aggravating blush creeping up his cheeks and ears. As he changed his clothes he lamented himself for never being able to fully maintain his composure around the king.

In minutes he was ready and exited his room, now in proper daytime attire. After a curt exchange of nods, they began their walk to the Dining Hall.

“There is something I wanted to ask you,” Thorin began as they walked.

Bilbo suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. He wondered if Thorin was going to give him another one of those dratted gifts. It’s not that Bilbo disliked them per se, it’s just that… well he didn’t really have any use for them. If Thorin kept this up he’d soon have too many fancy gadgets to take back home with him, and he really didn’t need any extra baggage. The Shire was many long miles away and he would need to keep his pack as light as he could. Bejewelled daggers and silver belts were not exactly light items.

“What’s that?” Bilbo asked, hoping this wouldn’t end in Thorin gifting him with horribly gaudy earrings or a garish longsword.

“My sister is coming,” Thorin continued. “If all goes well, she will be here in a month and a half. I was wondering… I know you were planning on leaving in a little over a week, but I was hoping you might be persuaded to stay a bit longer. I would love for you to meet her, and I’m certain she feels the same.” He looked at Bilbo expectantly as they walked.

Well this was unexpected. Certainly not an unwelcome request, but if he were to stay a little longer he would need to change some of his plans. And he would have to let Gandalf know, of course, as the wizard had offered to accompany Bilbo on his return journey.

“I suppose I see no reason why I can’t stay a few extra weeks,” Bilbo offered, then laughed to himself. “You know I’m beginning to suspect you’re trying to put off my departure indefinitely!”

Bilbo had meant this as a joke, but Thorin stopped abruptly and looked at him in earnest. “You know you would be welcome here until the end of your days, if that is what you desired.”

Bilbo smiled. “I’ll admit there is a part of me that wants to.” He continued walking, and Thorin followed at his side. “To stay, that is. But to be honest I’m not sure how much longer I can last in these halls. I miss flowers, Thorin. I miss the rolling hills of the Shire, and my home at Bag End. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed my stay here—I have—it’s just… hobbits weren’t built to live in a place like this. Stone walls grow tiresome when there’s no life to be found in them.”

Thorin nodded and Bilbo reflected on his words. It’s not that they were a lie, necessarily. Everything he had said was true… but it wasn’t exactly the whole truth. The whole truth was not something Bilbo could speak. What was the whole truth? The whole truth was that he needed to leave this place before he did something incredibly and irreversibly stupid. 

He had grown close to the company over this past year. They had all developed the sort of bond unique to people who had experienced danger and hardship and triumph together. And Bilbo had come to love the dwarves and their odd customs and strange peculiarities. He would be quite hard pressed to leave. 

But he had one slight problem. There was one dwarf in particular who had grown on his mind of late. One dwarf whom he had particularly come to love. And that… well it terrified him. Because no matter how much he loved he could never have. That was why he was so desperate to leave. He’d grown too close now. Close was an understatement. He was infatuated. Had it been anyone else, the situation might be different. But Bilbo knew it was foolish to ever expect a dwarf king to reciprocate feelings for a humble hobbit.

The king in question walked with Bilbo and nodded with a small sigh. “Very well. But you will stay until Dís arrives?”

“Yes of course. It would be an honor to meet your sister.”

“Wonderful.”   
  
Bilbo felt a tug at his heart, and hoped he could avoid doing anything truly idiotic before then.

* * *

Bilbo hardly saw Thorin at all in the following weeks. This came as both a disappointment and a relief. Of course he missed Thorin’s presence, but at least Bilbo wasn’t constantly making a fool of himself at every turn. Still he felt some misgiving that Thorin would disappear on him during Bilbo’s last month in Erebor. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d said something to push Thorin away.

He would ask people about Thorin’s whereabouts, but when he did people would only give vague answers, saying that Thorin had some business outside of Erebor, and sometimes giving him secretive looks, like he was asking for more than he ought to know.

And maybe it was a bit foolish of him, but he felt he had as much a right as any to know what Thorin was up to. He was practically an honorary dwarf at this point: he lived with them, dined with them, danced with them, not to mention fighting, fleeing, and fending off death with them. What was so important about Thorin’s business now that Bilbo wasn’t allowed to know? He tried not to take offense since it was no good sitting in bitterness, but despite his efforts he felt a bit insulted.

Bilbo was returning to his quarters late one night when he caught Thorin, who was also retiring for the evening. Bilbo couldn’t stop himself from calling out to Thorin as he came to his own room.

Thorin looked tired, but perked up when he saw the hobbit and smiled. “Bilbo :)”

Bilbo noticed that Thorin was practically covered in dirt and sweat. “You look exhausted,” Bilbo noted. “Can I offer you anything? Tea, perhaps?”

Thorin paused in consideration, then raised his eyes to meet Bilbo’s. “Actually, tea sounds lovely. Do you mind if I clean myself first?”

Bilbo laughed. “Not at all. You bathe, I’ll make tea.” He started walking back to his room, then paused. “I’ll bring it to you, so don’t bother leaving your room.” Thorin looked like he was going to object, but Bilbo held up his hand. “No, I insist. I can tell you’ve done far too much work already today. Just sit back and unwind. I’ll come to you.”

Thorin relaxed. “Thank you.” 

They turned into their own respective quarters. It took about twenty minutes for the tea to heat (luckily Bilbo already had a fire on). He wasn’t sure if Thorin would be finished with his bath yet, but he walked to the king’s room regardless. He could just wait in Thorin’s lounge until he was done.

When he entered Thorin’s room, he saw that the king wasn’t there yet, so he laid the tray down on a small table by the two chairs nested in front of the unlit hearth. He sat there for a while and was just beginning to wonder if he ought to get a fire started when Thorin walked in.

His hair was still wet from his bath and he was clothed in only a bathrobe. Bilbo pinched himself in an attempt not to stare too obviously, but it was hard to look away. He cleared his throat to let Thorin know he was there.

Thorin turned to him, slightly startled, but his demeanor softened when he saw Bilbo sitting there. “Bilbo… are you cold?” he asked, rubbing his hands over his own arms.

“Hm?”

“I’m freezing,” said Thorin. “Do you mind if I make a fire?”

“No, not at all.”

Thorin walked to the hearth and began stacking logs on the grate. Bilbo watched him quietly as Thorin knelt on the ground, gently placing the wood and lighting the center of the pile with a match. Once the fire had built to a steady blaze Thorin stood and took his seat next to Bilbo. Soon the fire was roaring in its heat, and Bilbo ventured a remark.

“I’ve barely seen you for… four weeks now, I believe.”

“Yes, I must apologize. I’ve had business outside of Erebor.”

“So I’ve been told.” Bilbo glanced at Thorin wondering if he would divulge any information, but it soon became apparent that wasn’t going to happen. Bilbo sighed and chuckled a bit, even though he wasn’t feeling particularly humored. “Secret business, hmm?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Thorin glanced at Bilbo, and perhaps reading Bilbo’s somewhat dejected expression said “I promise it is nothing personal that you have been kept out of the know in this, Bilbo. I need you to know that. You know there is no one in this palace I trust more than you.”

Bilbo supposed he did already know this, but it was a relief nonetheless to hear Thorin say it. His words had a calming effect on Bilbo, and suddenly he felt the tension and bitterness that had gathered inside him for the past few weeks subside. 

“Tea?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” replied Thorin.

Bilbo poured a cup for Thorin, then one for himself. They took their first sips in synchronization, like an old married couple winding down for the evening, Bilbo thought. It was an amusing bit of imagery, though maybe not very appropriate.

Thorin inhaled deeply and began a new conversation. “My sister will be arriving at the end of next week, if all goes well.

“Good,” Bilbo replied. “That’s good.”

“I received a letter from her this morning. She is excited to meet you. She’s heard only good things of course.”

Bilbo laughed. “Well then she’ll be in for quite the shock, I imagine.”

Thorin let out a low laugh and leaned back as he crossed his legs. “You know when we were kids we used to pretend that we were adventurers. Frerin as well. Our brother. We would go down to a cliff by the river and pretend to be travellers from far away lands.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was, though it occasionally ended in a few broken bones.” Thorin continued to sip at his tea.

“You don’t speak of them much. Your siblings.”

Thorin sighed. “Frerin died when we were both very young.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bilbo winced, unsure what else to say. Thorin didn’t talk about his past very much, so hearing this was unexpected.

“It was a very long time ago. My sister and I grew very close after it happened.” He looked down at his cup of tea, as if it might soothe him. 

Bilbo nodded. “Life hasn’t been very kind to you, has it?” It wasn’t the kind of observation he’d really meant to say out loud, but now it lingered in the air between them, and Thorin didn’t seem to mind.

He only shrugged. “Yes… I suppose the real adventures in my life have been quite different from the ones I envisioned as a child.” He looked intensely at his cup as he swirled it around in his hands, then smiled a bit. “Still, despite all of my troubles, I can’t say nothing good came from them. They did, after all, lead me to you.”

Bilbo blushed. “Well, for my part I can’t say I have too many regrets either.” He narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “Except maybe being used as a troll handkerchief. That, I could have done without.”

They chuckled together, and continued to talk for what must have been hours. They told stories from their childhoods, voiced their contrary opinions on politics, or the latest court gossip, and reminisced over shared experiences. It was the sort of night Bilbo thought himself very likely to remember forever. Just sitting here, with the king of Erebor, King Under the Mountain, chatting over tea in the dark hours of the night. There was something so delightfully preposterous about it. When the conversation lulled, Bilbo contemplated how different everything was now from when he was sitting on his porch that fine spring morning, puffing on his pipe, blissfully unaware that his life was about to be thrown into an entirely unexpected whirlwind.

Bilbo stared into the fire. The last of the tea was gathered in his cup as he thought to himself how happy he was. Before this—before Gandalf and the dwarves and the adventure—Bilbo lived a very plain life. He was content. He was perfectly content. But he wasn’t happy—not like this. He liked this. Sitting with Thorin by the fire, talking about various things, meaningless and significant. Just sitting here in each other’s company, for no reason other than the sake of company itself. It was a dangerous thought, perhaps, but it made him begrudge his impending departure.

He loved Thorin. It hadn’t been the kind of realization that came suddenly, but slowly, like dawn, growing ever closer until eventually it became so clear there was no use denying it. The signs were in the little things, like the lingering warmth when they touched and the moments of laughter and the way Bilbo trusted him like family. The signs were also in the big things, like how Bilbo knew he would lay his life down for Thorin without hesitation; how he ached when they were apart; how his heart felt like a compass that was always pointing to  _ him _ .

Bilbo was afraid. He was afraid because this wasn’t the kind of love you could run from. It was the kind of love that would pull for eternity, unrelenting and inconsiderate of consequences. He didn’t want to leave, but he felt it was the only thing that might save him from this rapidly growing fire. He couldn’t snuff it, he knew that much. But perhaps he could hide from it. Bury himself deep enough that it couldn’t get to him. Couldn’t eat him up entirely.

He stared into the dying flames in the hearth, now reduced mostly to simmering embers. A faint snore came from his side. Bilbo looked over to see that Thorin had fallen asleep. Every thought in his head suddenly vanished and was replaced by a feeling so warm and vivid he thought for a moment he might cry. Here was a king, eminent and mighty dwarf lord, now tilting his head back against his chair, mouth hanging open wide, looking almost infantile as he snored quietly. Bilbo could practically feel his heart grow physically soft in that moment. He wanted to reach out and hold him, to make him feel safe and comfortable, but instead he just watched.

He figured in the end this was his cue to leave. He stood up quietly and gathered the dishes onto the tray. He tiptoed away as silently as he could, trying not to disturb the resting king, but this proved difficult when he reached the door. The dishes on the tray rattled as he struggled with the handle and Thorin jolted back awake.

“Mahal,” he heard Thorin mutter, “did I really fall asleep?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I was just trying to slip out quietly, I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Thorin rubbed his eyes. “No, don’t apologize. If you’d left me here I would likely have slept till morning and woken with the most terrible cramp in my neck.” He looked at Bilbo, who was still struggling to balance the tea tray on his knee. “Do you need help?” Thorin stood up, still a bit drowsy and walked over to Bilbo.

“Oh, no it’s fine I can manage. Just a few dishes.”

“At least let me get the door for you.”

He stepped forward and pulled on the handle, opening the way and politely letting Bilbo step outside. The hobbit turned around to say goodnight and found himself suddenly very close to the dwarf, his face almost touching Thorin’s chest, and he had to take a step back. Thorin was leaning against the doorframe wearily, with a little grin on his lips. Bilbo cleared his throat as he stared blankly at Thorin’s chest.

“Thank you, Bilbo,” Thorin murmured. “The tea was excellent. As was the company.” He reached out and squeezed Bilbo’s arm, and that was  _ entirely _ too much for the hobbit. He took a few more steps back and nodded.

“Yes, um… anytime. It was good seeing you. Goodnight.”

It was a rather curt goodnight, but Bilbo was far too flustered to remember his niceties, and scuttled away to his room, terribly annoyed with the uncomfortable heat that had gathered in his cheeks. He could only hope Thorin was too tired to remember Bilbo’s complete impropriety tomorrow.

* * *

Bilbo found the library a nice place to visit, and he often spent his time there when he had nothing else to do. It was quiet, mostly, and had remained largely untouched by Smaug, so the entire room was still as impressive as it was the day it was built. He came here often to write. He’d begun to write down tales from his adventure in an empty red leather journal he had found. It was a relaxing activity when he needed to unwind, or even just get out for a nice change of scenery.

The library was quite massive, and contained many rooms. There were several private rooms that one could go into to read in peace, while the main part of the library, in opposition to what Bilbo was used to, was more of a public gathering place. Outside of the private rooms, nobody was expected to be quiet, and many would meet here to just sit and chat. Still it provided a unique atmosphere that Bilbo enjoyed, and he didn’t need a perfectly quiet room to focus on his writing, so he typically stayed out in the public area, alone with his book and his pen.

It was midday and Bilbo was wondering if he ought to stop by the kitchens and see if he could smuggle out a bite of something tasty to bring back. Dinner was a few hours out, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to wait that long. His stomach let out a horrifyingly loud growl then, and that settled it. He closed up his book, but decided to leave it here, since he intended on returning to this spot shortly. 

Luckily the kitchens weren’t all that far away, only about two minute’s walk. He entered through a door that was normally reserved for staff, but being Bombur’s beloved burglar had its perks. Stepping into the kitchen was like stepping through a wall of heat and a wonderful and mouth watering aroma. Immediately Bilbo thought he made the right move coming here.

It was very loud in the kitchens, and dwarves were running around, yelling at each other in Khuzdul. Bilbo slipped into the further reaches of the kitchen, looking for a certain red-headed dwarf who would almost certainly offer him something fresh and delicious. He searched for a while, and when he turned a corner he at last found the man himself, though he was with company that Bilbo was not expecting.

“Bilbo!” Bofur called out when he noticed the hobbit, and Bombur subsequently turned around to see their newest visitor.

“Well, well, well,” Bombur bellowed over the loud noise of the kitchen. “My favorite guest. I have just the thing for you.” At that he disappeared behind a few other bodies, then re-emerged with a rather large roll in his hands. “Here ye go, laddie! I hope this is just the thing yer lookin for.”

“Oh, yes this is perfect. Thank you.” He couldn’t resist taking a whiff of it “Wow. It smells amazing.” Then turning to Bofur, “I didn’t mean to intrude on you two, I will be on my way now.”

“Oh, don’t apologize!” Bofur replied cheerfully. “I was actually just leaving. Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all,” Bilbo said honestly. He hadn’t seen much of Bofur recently, and spending some time with his friend sounded lovely right now. After all, Bilbo planned on departing sometime next week, a few days after Dís’s arrival. He wanted to try to spend time with each member of the company before he left. “Thank you, Bombur!” he called out once more before he and Bofur left the kitchens.

“Where are we headed?” Bofur asked.

“I actually just came from the library. I was working on something and was thinking I’d take this back with me,” he held up his roll, then decided to take a bite. “What were you doing down in the kitchens?”

“Oh I was just visiting Bombur for a quick chat. I like to go say hello now and then, since I barely see him otherwise. Feeding Erebor is a full-time job, y’know.” 

“Yes, I learned in Bag End that feeding dwarves is quite a demanding task. I can only imagine how hectic it must be to feed an entire city!”

That got a hearty laugh out of Bofur as they arrived at the library, and Bofur pulled a chair up to the table Bilbo had been sitting at. “What’re you working on?” Bofur asked, gesturing to the red journal on the table.

“Oh, yes, it’s.. nothing really, just notes. I’m writing down our adventures.”

“That’s nice!” He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure that will make a wonderful book. I’m sorry I won’t be able to read it! You’re still planning on leaving next week, right?”

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

“Well. I’ll be sorry to see you go, but I wish you only the best. You know that of course, but I wanted to say it, because it’s true.”

Bilbo smiled. “Thank you. I’ll miss you too. All of you. It has truly been an honor getting to know you all. I don’t think I’ll ever forget my time here should I live to be a hundred and thirty years old.”

“And don’t think we’ll ever be forgetting you, lad.” Bofur beamed at him.

Bilbo never responded well to compliments, so he only smiled and took another bite of his roll. 

“Oh!” the dwarf exclaimed. “I’ve almost forgotten. I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and wooden, and handed it to Bilbo.

It was a hand-carved figurine, shaped to look like Bilbo. The detail was really quite impressive, and it captured his likeness to a T.

“This looks incredible, Bofur. Thank you.” After a second of admiration, he chuckled to himself. “You know if you guys keep this up I’ll hardly have enough room to bring everything back with me.”

Bofur looked at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing it’s just… Well, Thorin has also given me a mighty handful of gifts during my stay here. And they’re very extravagant, very impressive, but… you see I don’t really have much use for them. And some of the larger gifts will really just be a pain to take back with me anyways.”

Bofur looked at him with a curious expression. “You say the king has given you gifts… what kind of gifts, if I may ask?”

“Oh, let’s see. Well first there was the mithril shirt, but that was before the battle—”

“Thorin gave you  _ mithril _ ?” Bofur cut him off. “Do you know how much that is worth?”

Bilbo looked at Bofur’s aghast face. “No?”

The dwarf huffed. “That’s a kingly gift, Bilbo. I should hope you treasure that to the end of your days. It’s probably worth more than The Shire itself.”

_ More than the Shire? _ thought Bilbo.  _ A kingly gift indeed.  _ In truth he hadn’t actually intended on treasuring it to the end of his days. He was initially planning on throwing it into his mother’s glory box as soon as he got home and hope never to have to wear it again. Now he was wondering if he should even keep it, based on the reverence with which Bofur talked about it.

“I’m sorry,” Bofur said. “I didn’t mean to cut you off or nothin. You were telling me what sorts of gifts Thorin’s given you?”

“Oh, no worries. Um. Let’s see there was… well first there was the ring. Then the dagger, as well as a necklace which was very extraordinary, though a bit too flashy for my tastes. Also a belt, though I mostly wear suspenders so I don’t really see much use in it.”

Bofur eyed him inquisitively, something between awe and incredulity were knit into his brows. “Were these gifts—apart from the mithril shirt of course—were they hand-crafted by Thorin himself?”

“Why, yes actually. He seemed very proud of them when he gave them to me, though I find it a bit curious. He hasn’t given me one thing that really suited my interests. I’m sure he means well, really, but I’m not overfond of jewelry and showy accessories. And I’ve already got one more weapon than I’m particularly comfortable with. I was considering giving the dagger away to someone who might actually use it.”

“Oh, Bilbo, I wouldn’t do that.” Bofur had an unusually serious look on his face now, which took Bilbo by surprise.

“Why? What do you mean?”

Bofur straightened his back and took a deep breath. “I’m assuming you don’t know about courting gifts?”

“Courting gifts? No, I don’t. What is that?”

Bofur only tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, looking at Bilbo with a coy expression.

Bilbo suddenly realized what Bofur was implying. “You don’t think that…No—No. We’re just friends. Just friends, I assure you. And besides. I think I’d know if I was being… courted.”

“Say what you will, Bilbo, but… daggers, belts, jewelry… these are all very traditional courting gifts in dwarvish culture. And if it’s true that Thorin crafted them himself, well… I suppose that makes you one lucky hobbit.” Bofur winked at him.

“No,” Bilbo practically sputtered. “No, there must be some sort of misunderstanding. If you saw the gifts, you’d understand, it’s entirely platonic, I assure you. We are friends, and nothing more.” 

“I think maybe you should tell Thorin that.”

Bilbo wanted to scoff at Bofur and continue to tell him off, but even now his conviction began to fade. It felt too hopeful to entertain the idea, but in truth this would explain some of Thorin’s behaviour. But this was absurd. Bilbo could maybe entertain the possibility that Thorin regarded him with favor, and maybe even attraction, but to go so far as to court a nobody little hobbit? The thought was preposterous. And yet, Bilbo didn’t know about dwarven courting customs. Maybe things like rank weren’t important to them. But wasn’t there that thing Thorin had mentioned about a dwarf’s One? Was it even possible for a dwarf to fall in love with a hobbit?

Thankfully, Bilbo was spared from his thoughts when two familiar faces appeared at the table beside them.

“Fili! Kili!” Bofur greeted them.

“Hello Bofur. Bilbo.” Fili said. “Do you mind if we join you?” 

“No, please sit!” Bilbo was thrilled at the excuse to move on from the last conversation anyways. But throughout the rest of their impromptu meeting in the library, Bilbo felt distracted by Bofur’s words. In the end he decided he wouldn’t think much of them. That seemed the safest option. After all, Thorin wouldn’t really try to court someone without letting them know they were being courted, would he?

No matter where his thoughts turned, he wasn’t particularly comforted, and that evening he slept restlessly.

* * *

Bilbo woke the next day to a warm spring morning. He walked to his window and looked out onto the land in front of him. He could see trees blooming in every corner of the world, and every field was resplendent with life. He smiled as he stretched and wondered if he ought to go for a walk today. It had been a while since he’d visited Dale. Last he heard, the town was flourishing now with the aid of Erebor and the oversight of Bard. 

He sat down on his chair. It would be a few hours before breakfast would be held in court, so he picked up his book and read for a little while.

He found, however, that he had a hard time focusing. Every sentence he tried to read was interrupted by thoughts of his conversation with Bofur the previous day. He’d convinced himself that Bofur must not know what he was talking about. He’d told himself again and again that nothing fanciful should be interpreted from Thorin’s gifts. Bilbo had given away tons of gifts in his life without once meaning to court someone. 

But despite how much he tried to assure himself of this, there was always a corner of his mind that was dedicated to doubting it. His book was doing nothing to distract himself from his thoughts—it was rather the other way around. Beginning to feel restless, he wondered if he ought to take that walk now. Breakfast would be in less than an hour, though, and he wondered if his hunger would win over. But he knew Thorin was likely to be at breakfast as well, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to face the king today. Not with all these thoughts that were troubling him; he was sure to make a fool of himself.

That settled it. Bilbo stood and went to his wardrobe to pick out a nice walking outfit. He was halfway through getting dressed when the most ill-timed knock came at his door. Only one person ever knocked on his door at this hour, and he was exactly the person Bilbo did not want to see right now.

“Just a moment!” Bilbo called out as he fixed up his suspenders and pulled over his vest. He scuttled over to the door quickly, and sure enough there was Thorin on the other side.

“Thorin, good morning,” Bilbo coughed out as politely and normally as he could.

“Bilbo,” Thorin smiled, but something seemed a bit off with him. He seemed a bit tenser than usual. 

For a brief moment, a sudden fear struck Bilbo that maybe Bofur had approached Thorin about their conversation, but he quickly reassured himself that that was unlikely. For one, Bofur didn’t seem the kind to do something like that, but also Bilbo happened to know that Thorin was very busy yesterday. Bombur had come by Bilbo’s room last night with a plate of food and to have one last one-on-one with Bilbo before his return journey. Thorin had come up in their conversation, and Bombur mentioned that the king had arrived late to dinner and left early, and many were wondering what he could possibly be so busy with. 

Bilbo stood in silence, reassuring himself that Thorin’s strange demeanor must be related to something entirely different, when he realized he had entirely forgotten his manners.

“Can I do something for you? Would you like to come in?” Bilbo stepped aside to welcome him in but was stayed by Thorin’s hand.

“Actually, I had something else in mind.”

“Oh?”

Thorin gave Bilbo a nervous smile, something hidden behind it that Bilbo still couldn’t quite place.

“Yes I—it’s um. It’s a very pleasant day, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it certainly is. Perhaps the nicest weather we’ve had this season.”

“That it is, yes. I was wondering… given the fine weather, if you would like to join me on a walk?”

“A walk… outside…?” Bilbo refrained from punching himself in his lack of eloquence.

“That is what I was thinking, yes,” Thorin chuckled. 

“Of course. Yes. Yes, of course, I’d love to join you. Now?”

“If you haven’t got any other plans, that is.” Thorin gave Bilbo a mildly worried look. “It can wait if you don’t have the time now.”

“No, I’m all free. Just a moment, let me grab my walking stick.” Bilbo shuffled back into his room and returned briefly with his staff. The two of them headed out together, walking through the halls of Erebor side by side.

“So, where to? I don’t know the area very well, I’m afraid. I’ve only gotten a few chances to walk outside, and the days where I have, I’ve usually just walked down to Dale.”

“There is a trail I had in mind that begins just outside of Erebor’s gates. It is very scenic this time of year.”

“That sounds lovely!” Bilbo tried to keep his voice natural, but when Thorin side-eyed him he knew he had slipped. At least the king didn’t seem interested in prying into Bilbo’s thoughts this morning.

There was some tension between them as they walked to the front gates. There was something amusing about it, at least. Both of them were clearly troubled by something, but neither apparently willing to discuss it.

When they reached Erebor’s gates, the guards at the front door nodded at them and let the two step outside. In almost an instant Bilbo felt his uneasiness quelled by a refreshing breath of warm spring air. He felt the sun on his skin, he heard the birds chirping, and far off voices from Dale signalled that the town was just beginning to wake up. Thorin turned them to the right as they exited the mountain, and soon enough they came across the trail that Thorin had mentioned. It led up a steep incline that lay ahead of the mountain, but the way was assisted by many stairs.

As they walked, Bilbo wondered if he ought to fill the gentle silence between them. Maybe he should ask Thorin what was bothering him. Or perhaps not. If he asked Thorin what was bothering him, the king might ask him the same question in turn, and he did not feel like trying to explain himself at the moment. He was a rather terrible liar, anyway. Bilbo settled on a different point of conversation.

“I’ve heard your sister is expected to arrive tomorrow?”

“Yes! She is indeed. No later than noon, by her account.” They climbed the stairs, and Thorin led the way, holding branches aside for Bilbo as they walked.

“That’s lovely. Fili and Kili seem very anxious to see her. They also seem very anxious for me to meet her. Is there anything I ought to know going into this? I’m not quite sure what to make of her based on the few things I’ve heard.”

“I’m afraid my sister is a character you will have to discover for yourself, Bilbo Baggins. For what it’s worth, she’s already very fond of you.”

“Well I’m not sure why. She hasn’t even met me.” Thorin guided Bilbo’s back with his hand as they traversed a tricky incline before the path ahead leveled out and the stairs were now behind them.

“No,” Thorin responded, “but she knows you saved mine and her sons’ lives on multiple occasions. We all owe you a great debt for that.”

“Oh, it’s…. Nothing really.” Bilbo didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t exactly well-versed in the proper etiquette for receiving promises of debt and other such things. After all, he had only ever done what he thought was the reasonable thing to do, and whatever was least likely to get them all killed. Hardly worthy of such high praise. Except maybe walking alone into a mountain with a live dragon. That, perhaps, deserved a little praise.

After they had walked and talked for about twenty minutes, Thorin suddenly came to an abrupt stop where the path ahead disappeared behind the corner of a rocky cliff. Bilbo could hear the sound of running water drawing nearer and wondered why Thorin had stopped them. When he looked at the king, he was somewhat startled. Thorin’s face had gone practically white, and he looked now more nervous than ever.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said cautiously, “what’s wrong? You look a bit pale.”

Thorin took in a deep breath and looked warily at the path ahead of them. “There is a reason I asked you to walk with me here this morning.” He looked back at Bilbo, then down at the ground. “This past month, as you know, I’ve had business outside of Erebor. This was… in a way true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. I’ve been… working on something.” He paused here, hesitating.

“Thorin, what is it? What’s going on?”

Thorin looked at him with something akin to determination now. “That, my dear hobbit, I believe it is best to show you.”

He walked forward, motioning for Bilbo to follow. He led them around the cliff that blocked the path ahead, and when Bilbo turned around its corner, he staggered back a few steps in astonishment.

In front of him was a clearing which held perhaps the most beautiful scene Bilbo had ever beheld.

The source of the running water was a heavy stream which flowed down to the River Running, and it ran over several small dips so as to create small yet breathtaking waterfalls. The water seemed to have a magic about it; it reflected the light of the sun so clearly it looked almost like pure crystal. And yet the stream was the least bewitching thing that lay in front of Bilbo.

All around him were piled flowers upon flowers, all of different varieties and colors. There were poppies and peonies, lavender and hyacinths, dragon’s breath and purple heather, and many more that were quite foreign to Bilbo. They had clearly all been either gathered here or grown here, and were strewn across the intimate little clearing. 

A path wove through them which led to a small cottage. But it wasn’t a normal cottage—it was a small hobbit home. Much like the homes from The Shire that were built above ground, it had small round windows, a large round door, painted green, and even a chimney on top that suggested a fireplace within. At the front of it was a porch where there were seated a few benches that looked out over the garden of flowers.

Bilbo continued to look on in astonishment. He was entirely and completely dumbstruck. Instinctively he walked forward into the mass of flowers, his mouth ajar. He walked up to the small building and ran his hands along the pillars of the porch, as if to test out whether or not they were real. 

In his haze he realized something that stunned him completely and left him frozen in place. It was for him. This was all for him. It was a declaration. A plea. A heartfelt and ardent confession. The wood under his hands left no doubt and the flowers on all sides left no room for interpretation.

And suddenly everything made too much sense. The gifts, the looks, the unexplained disquiet when Thorin had knocked on his door this morning. Never had Bilbo understood Thorin’s intentions more clearly. Never had he felt so close to looking into someone’s soul than he did in that moment. He couldn’t explain it, but seeing this… this garden and this bower… this testament to Thorin’s feelings—it felt personal. Private. Like he was seeing something he ought not look upon. 

Bilbo turned to look at the dwarf. What he saw in Thorin’s eyes when he looked back was almost enough to shatter him. Thorin looked at him with fear and anticipation, stepping forward now, hesitant, hopeful.

“Thorin…” That was all Bilbo could manage to say. How could he even summarize his thoughts right now? He felt honored… overwhelmed… overjoyed, or maybe terrified? But most of all he felt so, so much love as he looked at the king, and hoped his eyes would convey enough.

“I didn’t know how else to tell you,” Thorin said as he took the last few steps toward Bilbo. He must have interpreted Bilbo’s expression correctly because he looked more at ease now. He took one of the hobbit’s hands in his own. “Bilbo Baggins, there is no one in the world I want by my side more than you. I know you plan on returning home in a few day’s time, and if that is still your desire, I will not try to stop you. But if you believed you could make a home here in Erebor, with me, I would have you to the end of our days.”

He gave Bilbo room to respond now, opening up the floor for him to speak.

Bilbo didn’t know what to do. He thought this might all be a dream. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he missed his home, but this… this was everything he could possibly want. Everything that could make him happy was right here in front of him. He looked up at Thorin, utterly lost for words.  _ Yes _ , he thought.  _ A thousand times yes _ . But he couldn’t manage to say the words out loud, so instead he reached his hand up to cup Thorin’s cheek. The dwarf leaned into the touch with a sigh, and Bilbo pulled him down into a kiss.

He could feel all the tension in Thorin’s body let up as he gave in and kissed his hobbit back, drawing his arms around Bilbo’s back. They shared a passion that had been stifled in them for so long, and there was no more veil, no more need for suppressing or lying, to themselves or to each other. It was emotional and it was honest.

When at last they pulled apart, Bilbo looked at him with a sudden change of expression. “You sodding nitwit,” he jeered. “You  _ were _ trying to court me. And you didn’t even have the decency to let me know.”

Thorin broke into a shit-eating grin. “If I’m a nitwit I’m not sure what that makes you. I thought I was making myself clear, but you never failed to miss a hint.”

“Oh, right,” Bilbo scoffed. “Because you dwarves are entirely straightforward about your feelings. You know you could have tried just talking to me.”

Thorin pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s, bringing his hand to the hobbit’s neck. “And why would I do that when instead I could build a great home and a garden all for your own keeping, as a gesture of my love?”

“Actually, I can’t argue with that logic.” He leaned forward and kissed the dwarf once more, quick and chaste.

“I, um, I have something that I would like to give you,” Thorin said, pulling away, but keeping his hand on Bilbo’s arm.

“Another gift?” Bilbo asked, trying not to sound incredulous.

Thorin smirked, but pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small case. He opened it and showed its contents to Bilbo. Inside were two small cylindrical beads that were identical to the ones Thorin wore in his own braids. Bilbo looked up at Thorin inquisitively.

“These were given to me by my mother when I was young.” Thorin explained. “They were meant to be a gift to my One, if I was ever to find them. It’s traditional in dwarvish culture for the one who is courting to braid the courting beads into their beloved’s hair. Consider it an official statement of sorts. An announcement that we belong to one another, and no one else.”

“I can’t imagine you are scared of another dwarf coming and sweeping me off my feet, Thorin.”

Thorin looked at him deeply and so sincerely. “I want the world to know that I am yours and you are mine. Will you accept?”

“I suppose I can’t refuse such a romantic gesture.”

Thorin’s eyes softened, and they sat as he took Bilbo’s long locks and carefully wove in two braids on the sides of his face, tying the beads into his hair. When he was finished, he held one of Bilbo’s braids between his fingers, looking at it with satisfaction.

“I’m sure I look quite ridiculous now,” Bilbo mused.

“You look stunning, Ghivashel.”

Bilbo smiled, though he didn’t understand the Khuzdul word, but he supposed it was probably something horribly sappy. At that moment Bilbo’s stomach chose the most awful time to make a very loud complaint. 

“Ah. Apologies. I haven’t eaten today. Hobbit stomachs can be rather fussy about that sort of thing.”

“Actually,” Thorin said, “I may be able to do something about that.” He stood up.

“Oh?” Bilbo followed him to the door of the little home, which Thorin opened up to reveal an inside that was just as incredible and intricate as its outside. As suspected, there was a fireplace, and a sitting area beside it. But more importantly, there was a small kitchen inside, with a stove and pantry, where Bilbo could come to cook or bake whenever the desire struck him. And in the middle of the kitchen was a dining table, upon which Bilbo was delighted to find a hearty little breakfast, ready for the eating, supplied with fruits of all sorts and bread and honey.

“This looks amazing,” Bilbo sighed. “And thank goodness for that. I’m starving.”

Thorin chuckled. When they sat down, Thorin broke the loaf of bread, Bilbo piled grapes onto his plate, and they talked and laughed for what must have been over an hour. Bilbo thought to himself that this was the happiest he had been in a very long time.

* * *

Dís had arrived in the afternoon, as expected, but Thorin had arranged to meet with her before anyone else. Fili and Kili were now sitting in a room with Bilbo, awaiting their arrival.

The brothers had immediately noticed the beads that were braided into Bilbo’s hair as soon as the hobbit was in the same room as them. They refrained from mentioning it for a while, but they finally gave in.

“Those are Thorin’s beads, are they not?” asked Fili.

“Oh, I knew that something was going on between you two!” said Kili

“You did not,” retorted Fili.

“Well, I never said it, but I always suspected!”

“Yes, it’s true.” Bilbo cut in. “Your uncle and I are courting.”

“But aren’t you leaving in a few days?” said Kili.

“Oh, heavens no. Why would I? I’ve decided everything I need is right here. Plus I’ve grown too fond of all of you to say goodbye now. I may go back to Hobbiton sometime in the future to see my relatives and perhaps grab a few of my old belongings, but I have decided I’m quite content living out my life here in Erebor.”

“That’s wonderful!” said Kili. “Have you told anyone else the news?”

“No, not yet. It only happened just yesterday.”

“Well I can’t say I’m completely surprised,” said Fili. “Thorin’s taken quite a liking to you over the past year.”

“I knew it as soon as he laid eyes on you at Bag End,” said Kili.

Bilbo scoffed. “I’m certain you’re wrong about that. His first choice words to me, if you remember, were a carefully crafted insult. ‘Grocer’ indeed.”

“Nonsense,” Kili retorted. “He may have spoken ill to you, but his eyes told another story.”

At that moment the door of the room opened, and in walked Dís and her brother.

Fili and Kili jumped up and ran to embrace their mother with open arms. She gave them both a big bear hug, and Bilbo thought it was a sweet moment to behold.

Thorin gave Bilbo a subtle wink and came to stand beside him silently as the three other dwarves were chattering away, asking over each other's health and other such things. When that was finished, Dís turned to Bilbo.

“So,” she said, walking over and looking him up and down. “This is the hobbit.” She smiled at him slyly and Bilbo had terrible flashbacks of his and Thorin’s first encounter in Bag End. She looked so very much like her brother, after all, though her beard was longer and fuller. “He’s shorter than I expected,” she assessed.

Bilbo scrunched his face in mild indignation.

“Yes,” Thorin agreed, “He is smaller than dwarves in stature, and perhaps more fragile in build, but he is as brave and as sharp as any dwarf I have ever known.”

“Yes, and he can also speak for himself,” Bilbo cut in, side-eyeing Thorin and turning to Dís. “Bilbo Baggins. A pleasure to finally meet you. I wish I could say I’ve heard a lot about you, but alas, Thorin has told me very little.”

“And that’s just as it should be,” Dís laughed. “I would hate for anyone to think they knew me before they’d ever met me. Though I’m sure we will come to know each other very well in the coming months. In fact,” she said, leaning in a little closer to Bilbo, “I would like to speak with you in private sometime in the near future. There are certain matters I would like to discuss with you.”

“Oh,” Thorin interrupted, “I don’t know if that’s really necessary.”

“No, no, I insist,” said Dís. “You are, after all, my brother’s betrothed, if what Thorin has told me is true” 

Bilbo went a bit flushed, and was saved from answering when Balin came into the room.

“Dís!” he shouted. 

“Balin! My, has it been a long time.”

“Thirty years, if memory serves me well,” Balin grinned. They greeted one another in traditional dwarf fashion—and this involved much more head-butting than Bilbo thought healthy (though he had learned from very personal experience that dwarf skulls could be incredibly thick).

“Dinner will be held soon. There is to be a great feast tonight. I hope you will join us?” Balin spoke expectantly.

Dís clapped her hands together at that. “Oh, I would be thrilled,” she said. “I have heard wonderful things about Bombur’s cooking from these two,” she ruffled the heads of her sons. “They said that on their journey he could make a common squirrel taste like the finest steak. I’m certain it must have been an exaggeration, but I hope to be proven wrong.”

“In that case, let us wait no longer.” Thorin said, and motioned for them all to leave the room in the direction of the Great Hall. 

When they departed, Balin trailed back and pulled Bilbo and himself behind the rest of the group. “So,” he began, and gave a meaningful glance to the beads that hung by the sides of Bilbo’s head, “he finally spoke to you, I presume?”

Bilbo huffed. “‘Spoke’ isn’t exactly it. He toiled for weeks on end building me a small hobbit hole on the side of the mountain and let me figure it out for myself. Lucky for him, it finally worked. Though I did have some help from Bofur in the end.”

Balin chuckled. “Aye, that makes sense. Well I want you to know that I’m happy for the both of you. I hope you find peace and happiness in Erebor.”

“Thank you Balin, but I do believe I already have.” He looked ahead at the king, who was smiling at his sister, making jokes and looking more at ease than Bilbo had seen him in a while.

Bilbo’s stomach fluttered as they approached the Great Hall. Now came a very nerve-wracking moment, because Bilbo hadn’t yet appeared in public with his courting beads, and the only ones who knew of his and Thorin’s new relationship were the ones walking by his side right now.

But when the dinner came, not much was said. Some of the company came up to give him a slap on the back. Ori only asked if this meant that Bilbo would be staying, and seemed more interested in this than in the new courtship. Bofur winked at him, but said nothing more than a warm congratulations.

As for the people of Erebor, they remained mostly quiet, though he could see many whispering not-so-subtly amongst themselves.

And Thorin, well, he looked more regal than ever before. He kept Bilbo almost possessively at his side. It was as though a great burden had been lifted from the king’s shoulders, and he could walk more freely and talk more boldly, and his chin was held higher than normal. And when any of the dwarves of Erebor would look at him and his hobbit warily, Thorin would respond with the coldest eyes his happy heart could muster.

* * *

Bilbo stood in front of Dís’s door. It was where she had requested he come, so that they could have a bit of a one-on-one. He knocked nervously, and Dís was there in seconds, smiling warmly and inviting him in.

“Take a seat, my dear,” she said, gesturing cordially to a small table where Bilbo saw two seats set up.

Bilbo smiled politely and said thank you as he sat at the chair closest to him. He had been a bit frightened coming here—he didn’t know the purpose of Dís’s invitation, nor the contents of what she wished to say to him, but she was being very amicable, which gave Bilbo hopes that this might, after all, be a pleasant conversation, and there was no need to be so worried.

“Now,” said Dís, as she stood by a case of bottles, each filled with wine from all different corners of Middle Earth, “I understand you have pledged yourself to my brother.”

It was less of a question and more of an observation.

“Yes, I have. Of course it was very recent, and no real plans have been made, but, er…” he didn’t really know how to end the sentence so he just left it there and nodded.

“And I trust you understand,” Dís continued as she took out various bottles to look at them, taking care to make the right pick, “that being the king’s consort will come with neither ease nor grace. Your duty will be to assist the king, provide aid, and work as a pacifier of the people. While these may sound like simple tasks, they will not be as easy as they may seem.”

“Yes, of course,” Bilbo responded. “I never imagined they would be so. Nevertheless, I think I have picked up the good grace of many dwarves here, and I hope I can earn their trust and respect if I haven’t already. Plus, I’ve already been doing half of these things as it is.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard. But I don’t want you to assume that it will continue to be as simple as it has been. There are some who will not be pleased that the king has chosen a hobbit as his consort. You may have had their grace when you were only a guest here, but I would prepare for a change of attitude from some of the dwarves.”

Bilbo lowered his head. “Yes, I understand.” He was prepared to face whatever backlash this would evoke, but he suspected not many would be so bold as to stand against their leader, especially not one so highly esteemed and feared as Thorin.

“Now,” Dís said, finally deciding on two separate bottles and bringing them to the table, “on a personal note. Thorin is my brother. I grew up with him, and I love him as dearly as I love my own sons. Despite how much I love him, I don’t always trust him to make the right decisions. Which comes to one of the reasons why I have asked you here. I’m afraid I don’t know you very well, but I want you to know that if you in any way take advantage of my brother or betray his trust, I will pound your miserable body to a pulp with my hammer until your bones turn to powder and your insides are jello. In addition to that, I will take the skin from your body and turn it to leather, which I will hang on my wall for decoration, and serve the rest of your remains to the dogs.”

_ Hm _ , Bilbo thought, staring blankly at the table in quiet shock.

“White wine or red, dear?” 

Bilbo grunted. “Um. Red, please.”

“That being said,” Dís went on as she poured out two glasses, one for Bilbo and one for herself, “I’ve been told by many whom I would consider good and honorable dwarves that you were an invaluable member of the company. You saved their lives on many occasions, often with clever solutions that most would not have thought of. For this I would give you my sincerest gratitude. I owe a great debt to you on behalf of my sons.”

Bilbo could only nod, unsure what to do with the rapid succession of moods the room had taken in the last minute and a half.

“Please,” she said, “have some wine, you look tense.”

Bilbo took a sip, and it did actually calm his nerves a little bit. Dís smiled at him warmly, but he just continued to stare blankly at the table, unsure where this conversation was currently headed, and wondering if it would be impolite to excuse himself. That was probably not something he could get away with at this point, so instead he just decided to wait until Dís talked again.

“I’m sure you know much of dwarves and our culture, Master Baggins, having lived here for so long,” Dís commented, then paused briefly to take a sip from her glass. “But I’m afraid I know little to nothing of hobbits. I only ever rarely came down from the Blue Mountains to visit Bree, and it was always on business. Please, tell me about yourself. I would very much like to know you Bilbo Baggins.”

“Oh, well I, um,” Bilbo interrupted himself with a cough, desperately trying to shake his nerves. “I suppose there’s not really much to tell. Hobbits are a rather peaceful folk, you know. Quiet and unobtrusive. You know, I’m sorry, I don’t wish to deflect or be rude in any way,” Bilbo said with a bit of a newfound resolve, “but I just want you to know that I have no intention of leaving, hurting, or exploiting Thorin in any way. He means the world to me, you know. And I know you may not trust me. Good heavens, I know very well the mistrustfulness of dwarves, but I don’t have any tricks up my sleeves. I’m not here for gold or glory or power. I’m here because I love your brother, and I would leave behind my home and my life to be with him, because truth be told, I didn’t really have a life before this. I was alone, and I was sad, and I was perfectly content living out the rest of my life believing I was exactly where I wanted to be. But I know something now that I didn’t then. Gardens and kitchens and cozy homes mean nothing when you haven’t got anybody to share them with. And as for me, I would share my life and soul with Thorin.”

He hadn’t really meant to say all of that, but he didn’t regret it either. He understood Dís’s need to be protective of her brother, but these things needed to be said.

Dís smiled at him warmly, and Bilbo noted that the smile was very much like Thorin’s.

“I appreciate your words, Bilbo Baggins. And while I do not know you, they give me comfort. I hope that time will prove them true. But come,” she said with a smirk and another sip of her drink, “I really do wish to know about hobbits. Tell me everything.”

* * *

The whistle of the kettle sent Bilbo hurrying to the stove of his new kitchen in his cozy hobbit home. He quickly removed the pot and carefully dropped in the tea. Letting it steep for a few minutes, he poured out two cups and carried them out onto the porch that overlooked his garden. Waiting for him outside on one of the benches was Thorin, heaving a peaceful sigh and turning to look at Bilbo with a smile.

Bilbo handed him one of the cups and took a seat next to his beloved. They sat there and listened to the gushing river and the nearby sparrow’s beautiful call as they looked out onto the magnificent terrace of flowers.

Some strong feeling overcame Bilbo as he sat there, taking in the beautiful scene in front of him, and he began to gently hum a soft melody until it turned into a song.

_ Love was never made by gods, but crafted by the trees; _

_ It walks through mountain ranges; it fills the morning breeze; _

_ It lingers in the soil, sowed by tender-loving hands; _

_ It runs through river water over freely given lands; _

_ It lives in reds and purples of the lilies and the heather _

_ And digs its roots in deeper to survive the winter weather. _

_ Love was never made by gods, but sings beside the birds, _

_ And lets itself be uttered now in sweetly spoken words. _

He didn’t know where the words came from, but they had flowed out of him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Thorin smiled at him, and Bilbo couldn’t keep from blushing. “What?” he said, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

“It is nothing, Ghivashel,” Thorin mused. “It’s just that I do believe I am madly in love with you.”

Bilbo smiled and took a sip from his tea. “Well I’m afraid I can’t remedy that for you.” He rested his head contentedly on the dwarf’s shoulder. “But if it’s any consolation, I believe I’m madly in love with you too.”

Thorin chuckled, bringing his arm around the hobbit, and Bilbo felt there was nothing in the world that could make him happier than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit carried away with the word count on this fic, but in my defense, I haven't written fiction in YEARS and all of my pent up creative juices just went flooding. I really hope you enjoyed!


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